


In a Name

by annaliesegrace



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 09:12:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annaliesegrace/pseuds/annaliesegrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichabod has had something on his mind, and he finally asks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a Name

**Author's Note:**

> Can I just say how much I have fallen in love with this show? I mean seriously. So here is a quick one shot based on this one little item my brain has been stuck on.

She stood in the dusty, really dusty, storage room and surveyed her work. It had taken the better part of two days but Abbie was finally starting to make a visible dent in organizing the supplies she had bought. At some point it became clear that organizing by group (medical, canned goods, the much discussed bottled water) was going to make the most sense, so that in an emergency whatever was needed could be grabbed quickly. This was in addition to the half dozen go bags she had already packed and shoved in the corner of the small room. 

Suddenly the space got darker and Abbie turned to see Ichabod standing at the doorway, blocking most of the light (next up, wiring in an overhead lightbulb and switch), and holding a glass of water, he still patently refused to drink the bottled kind - Abbie was pretty sure he had figured out she was kidding about the arsenic in the tap. Wordlessly he handed it over to her and as she took a long drink his eyes roamed the room, taking in (and memorizing) every items location. As his gaze settled on her, Abbie could see a question forming, it wasn’t hard, his eyes narrowed a certain way and the lines became more prominent as it happened. Instead of asking though, she merely drank her water and waited. Whatever the question he would ask in his own time, she had learned early on that it was better to wait and see if he could work it out himself. Often he did. 

This was not one of those times.

“Miss Mills,” he started then paused. “May I invite a personal question?”

“Sure, but can I get out of the dirty, spider-filled closet first?”

Surprise covered his face as if he had forgotten where they were standing and smoothly he stepped out of the door, one hand outstretched, indicating for her to pass.

Grinning she walked out of the space and moved to the table, sitting down with her glass. He followed and sat adjacent to her, at the head of the table. It was their usual seating arrangement at Corbin’s cabin. Jenny had made the mistake once of sitting in Abbie’s “spot” and had quickly, though politely, been asked to move by Crane.

“It is something that has been on my mind for some time but there never seemed an appropriate time to ask…”

Abbie raised one eyebrow; this could go down a very bad path if they weren’t careful. Already a half dozen highly inappropriate potential questions had floated through her head. 

“Your name…”

Now she frowned and set the glass down fully on the table, her hands unnaturally close to his. Usually they shied away from too much physical contact with each other, both seemingly terrified of what would happen if they got too physically comfortable with each other.

“My name?”

“Yes. When we had the Hessian captured here, he used your full name. Grace Abigail Mills.” 

When he said her given first name, it felt like the word vibrated through her soul. And it wasn’t just because she so rarely heard it; it was because he said it.  
“What about it?” 

“Why are you not called Grace as is customary?” Again, there was a shiver seemingly in her soul when he said the name. “Miss Jenny does not go by a middle name; it appears she does not have one.”

She polished off the water and shrugged. “No, Jenny doesn’t have a middle name. And I don’t go by Grace because no one has ever used it.”

“Not even your parents?”

“Nope. Jenny didn’t even know it was my first name until she was in kindergarten.”

He looked confused. “Why christen you with the name if there was no intent to use it?”

Abbie leaned toward him. “To hear my Mom tell the story, she and my Dad had decided on the name Abigail the moment they found out she was pregnant, never even picked a boy’s name…” she drifted off a second into the story, suddenly realizing that maybe this really was meant to be, that she and Crane were destined to fight this since the beginning of time. They were meant to find each other over the centuries. It wasn’t happenstance that he was placed in a magical coma, it was…fate or destiny or whatever. 

“Lieutenant?” he asked and gently touched his finger tips to the top of her hand.

She shook her head. “Sorry, I…ummm, where was I? Oh…yeah. So the nurse brings my Mom the birth certificate form to fill out and out of nowhere she puts “Grace” in the first name box and “Abigail” in the middle name. Said, um…” Abbie stopped and laughed humorlessly, staring him straight in the eyes. “She said God told her to do it. We never really believed her, Jenny and I…we always thought that she just wanted to name me Grace and Dad didn’t like it so to spite him she put Grace on the birth certificate.”

“But even she never called you by that name?” he asked.

“Not as far as I knew.” Abbie shook her head and another thought occurred to her. “Mom wasn’t crazy, was she Crane?”

“No, I’d imagine not. I expect that her…incarceration was analogous to Miss Jenny’s.”

“Was it God?” she asked, her voice wavering with emotion. “That told her to name me Grace?”

His fingers wrapped around her hand, squeezing it tenderly. “I do not have an answer to that. But I suspect that she knew you were…special.”

“Witness, with a capital W,” she whispered with tears streaming down her face, the emotion was overwhelming. For a long time Abbie had been angry with her mother, angry she had left she and Jenny to rot in foster care, angry she hadn’t been able to keep it together after her father left. Just…angry. And all of it had been misplaced. 

“Do you think…” she blew out a breath. “Do you think she went crazy because of me?”

Ichabod cocked his head and regarded her a moment. “Because of your status as a witness?”

All she could manage was a weak nod.

The hold he had on her hand tightened. “Not for a moment.”

Again she nodded.

“You do know the meaning of Grace, yes?” he asked while his thumb moved gently across the inside of her wrist in a soothing gesture.

“It’s a reference to the Grace of God.”

“Indeed.”

They fell into companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts of what it all meant, all the while her hand remained captured by his, Ichabod’s thumb still moving slowly across her skin.  
Eventually she broke the silence. “You, me, headless…this whole mess has been set for a long time, hasn’t it Crane?”

“I’d expect so, Miss Mills.”

“Could you please call me Abbie? We are in this for the long haul; the least you could do is use my name.”

“I’m rather fond of Grace,” he said impishly. “It suits you.”

Another shiver, this time down her back. There was just something about the way he said it. “Maybe down the road, for right now let’s stick with Abbie.”

“Yes, Miss-Abbie.”

She smiled, looked at their still joined hands, and again a warm feeling settled over her. Did it matter what he called her? No, she supposed it didn’t, what mattered was they had each other, be it through fate or mere coincidence.

And she was most grateful.

END

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to focus on the fact Abbie’s given name is Grace, but somehow this also touched on Abbie’s mothers mental issue and how they came to each other, both subjects I would love more information about.


End file.
